Truth
by Smallprint
Summary: Our favourite Weasley is in hospital, with no recollection of what has happened... Will this be the end for her? Or will someone be able to pull her back? If so, who will it be?


::Truth:: _Prologue_

**Disclaimer:**  I don't own Harry Potter, not in the slightest.  If I did, do you really think I'd be posting chapters on Fanfiction.net?  No... I'd be selling them for millions of pounds, of course!

***

Ginny tried to sit up and cried out in pain.  A spasm raced up her back, making her spine contract in an excruciating twist Ginny imagined must feel similar to her backbone being locked and suddenly tightened in a vice.  On yelling, Ginny found her ears were extremely sensitive to noise, and the raw cry she had uttered re-entered her head and thumped around her brain, threatening to crack her skull open in a manic rage to escape.  Realising the slightest movement would hurt even more, Ginny laid back against her numerous pillows and scrutinised the room around her.

Her bed was next to a whitewashed wall, which contained no redeeming features other than a shuttered window that was at such an angle that Ginny could only see a tiny glimpse of sky through the slats.  Ginny suspected the window had been covered in an attempt to guard her eyes from the light hovering outside.  And if her eyes were anywhere near as raw as her ears, this was an excellent idea, and Ginny was grateful.  The remaining walls of the room seemed to ripple in front of her, and a puzzled Ginny took a considerable amount of time to realise they were in fact curtains, hung from long bronze poles at right angles to one another.  The curtains created a trapped boxed in atmosphere that Ginny hated.  If she had the use of her body, she would have been at the curtains in a flash, pulling them apart to reveal the rest of what Ginny assumed was a rather large room, most probably containing many rectangular curtained sections.  But, as nobody had responded to her earlier exclamation of pain, there must be nobody else in the other beds.  Either that or her over sensitive ears had perceived a small whimper as something much louder than it really was.  Ginny suspected the latter, especially when she heard the creak of someone rolling over on their mattress.

Turning her attention to the objects in the room, Ginny adjusted her position slightly (not without a grimace) and allowed her eyes to take in the many interesting objects around her.  Immediately to her right, trapping her bed against the wall, was a small wooden table that had been painted to match the walls, Ginny noted with distaste.  On the table were a vast amount of cards, all sporting such vivid colours that Ginny had to turn away quickly, provoking a clench in her neck that threatened to make her cry out again.  Remembering the effect on her head the last time she had made a noise, Ginny bit her lip to hold in the sob.  As she tasted the unmistakable taste of blood leak into her mouth, Ginny though bitterly that that was probably the reason for all the whitewash.  Colours were not a good thing right now.

Even so, the streaky, off-white was overwhelming, and Ginny mentally revamped the room.  The dark green curtains, well they would have to be blue.  Light blue, maybe.  Pale- of course.  The walls would be cream.  No.  White, but... a constant coat of white.  And the bed cover... as hard as she tried not to picture this, Ginny was sure she could see the colour of vomit amongst the patches that had been hastily darned onto the green blanket.  In Ginny's imagination, the blanket was the same shade of blue as the curtains, and the sheets would be striped blue and white.  Dark blue.  The furniture would be natural wooden colour, not the ghastly white paint that had cracked over the years and was pleading Ginny to peel sections off.  Which she probably would if her arm didn't have a dozen needles stuck into it.

Needles!  In her arm!  Despite having a childhood fear of anything sharp and pointy going into her body; Ginny forced herself to be calm.  The needles were undoubtedly there for a reason, so struggling with them probably wouldn't be a very good idea.  Even so, Ginny's eyes continued to stray down to her poor arm which was being infiltrated with... surely she could get them out with one sharp...  Focus on something else, she told herself.  Anything else.  Anything at all.  The sick coloured patch on the bed.  Ugh, not that.  Something else...

A picture on the wall caught Ginny's eye.  It was the only decoration in this bleak room, but it wasn't particularly decorative.  It was a painting, and it looked old... but it had no distinguishing aspects.  It was dark, and bland, and... it was a chair.  Just a painting of a chair.  To be fair, it was a very nice chair.  It was tall, and had a fur draped over it, not to mention many jewels studded into the legs and arms.  The seat looked like it was made from freshly polished brown leather.  The painting spoke volumes to Ginny.  It was almost as though it was real, like the painting was a window to another world.  Ginny imagined she was in that other world, instead of stuck in this bed with pain flowing through every vein in her body, thumping and poking at her, trying to make her scream in a vicious attempt to hurt her even more.

In this world, Ginny was a noble woman.  She had on a long, flowing robe of midnight blue.  Her hair was swept up in an elegant style, and in her immaculate, manicured hand she held a small intricate fan, which she waved in front of her face to... what?!  Ginny blinked.  This was impossible.  She looked away, and looked back at the painting.  She was there!  She was in the painting!  This was impossible.  She must be dreaming.  Ginny didn't have to pinch herself to feel a sharp pain in her arm, that was something going on everywhere in her body.  Okay, so she was awake, but she must be delirious.  Either that, or... maybe it was a hologram.  If viewed from a certain angle you could see a figure in the painting, at other angles it was just a chair.  But she hadn't moved...  Ginny stared at the painting and after a while her eyes picked out characteristics that obviously didn't belong to her.  The woman's hair was brown, she was obviously a great deal older than Ginny, and she was pregnant.  A wave of dread washed over Ginny and she glanced down quickly.  There was no big lump halfway between her legs and her shoulders.  And there was no cot in the room...  Ginny listened carefully.  No baby crying.  She breathed a sigh of relief.  Thank God.

But then... the person, she... she waved at her!  This couldn't be real.  The person in the picture was moving, waving...  Ginny screamed, and as soon as the sound hit her head it filled her with an overwhelming power, everything slipped away, so all she could see was black...  Ginny lost what little control she had of her body and suddenly all the pain was gone.  Ginny felt like she could leap and run and skip and... She was giddy.  But it was o.k!  Ginny feel ecstatic.  She felt as though nothing could stop her now.  And as she cart wheeled away over the pink fluffy clouds, she wondered "Am I dead?  Is this Heaven?!".

***

**Audrey:  **Wahey!  You reached the end!  Congratulations!  Now would you care to press that cute little button down there and tell me what you thought?  You know you want to...

**Bat Girl:  **Cheat.

**Audrey:  **What?  When have I ever cheated?

**Bat Girl:  **I dunno.  But know we're on the subject; it was so unfair I lost that Carcass Savager thing.  Just because Evil Seal gave out free bloodcakes!  That is cheating!

**Audrey:  **Bat Girl... those bloodcakes were part of the buffet.  Nobody bribed anyone.

**Bat Girl:  **What???

**Audrey:  **I know it's hard, but sometimes you have to accept that you can't win ever-

**Bat Girl:  **You mean I could have eaten some???

**Audrey:  ***sigh*.


End file.
